At my son’s first wedding anniversary party at a private club in downtown Atlanta, his father-in-law grabbed my elbow, steered me toward the service tables, and said under his breath, “Old man, go sit over there.” I didn’t argue a word—until a man at the far end of the room suddenly stood up, looked straight at me, and the whole party started changing color.
The first time Grant Ashford put his hand on me that night, he did it with the polished confidence of…